


Three Piece Suit

by stopmakingsense



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Bottom Brian, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Office Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spit Kink, Suit Kink, Suit Porn, THAT FUCKING THREE PIECE SUIT WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME, Top Patrick, VERY BRIEF SPIT STUFF ok, Workplace Sex, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 08:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmakingsense/pseuds/stopmakingsense
Summary: That one day Brian was wearing a suit in the office.





	Three Piece Suit

**Author's Note:**

> I told you guys I was gonna do it and I DID IT OKAY?  
> -there is a brief mention of fucking while slightly intoxicated  
> -this is REALLY UNBETAD, along with all my other works
> 
> I started this fic the day that zelda video came out I think and finally finished it lol I am lazy but also busy

Pat inhales sharply when he sees it. Brian had shown up that day dressed fairly normal, a button-up and jeans, obnoxious sneakers, his watch, nothing out of the ordinary. But part way through the day he emerges from another room wearing a tight, gray three-piece suit, and Patrick nearly passes out then and there.

The jacket fits a little loosely (flatteringly though), but with it unbuttoned you could see the tight waistcoat pulling at his slender chest and waist. And the pants, jesus fucking christ the pants. They held taut in all the right places, or maybe all the wrong places, and Patrick was steeling himself not to glance over repeatedly because it was going to be  _ too fucking obvious _ that he was ogling.

When Brian walks by on his way to his desk he does this little self conscious smile as if he’s saying ‘yeah, I know, I’m wearing a ridiculous suit at work’ and Patrick can’t help but beam a goofy, charmed grin back at him. He hopes it’s mistaken for a shit-eating one instead. Pat resists the urge to make some sort of joke because he’s pretty sure he would just stumble over it and be totally obvious anyway.

The next time Patrick sees him, it’s been _ hours _ . He comes back into the office with the jacket and tie discarded, his shirt unbuttoned, and his hair an absolute mess. Horrible, inappropriate images flash through Pat’s mind, and he quickly pretends that he hadn’t noticed when Brian looks over and catches his eye for a split second. Brian sits back down at his desk, runs a hand through his hair, drinks some water, finishes his last bit of work for the day.

It had been over two months now since they had casually hooked up. Brian had been over at Patrick’s house, three beers deep and sitting on his bed while they played video games. Patrick doesn’t even really remember exactly what lead up to it, but it was indescribably intense. It was like Brian was already on the same page as him without even having to speak a word, body reacting in ways straight out of Pat’s wet dreams. Brian gave when Pat asked, asked ( _ begged _ ) when Pat needed it. It was hands down the best sex he had ever had.

So the fact that they hadn’t talked about it since had been plaguing Patrick nearly every waking moment. Was he embarrassed? Did he regret it? Was he upset that they had both been maybe not-so-sober? Had Patrick said or done something weird afterward like mumbled “I love you” and totally forgotten about it? Why did everything else between them seem so normal still? Patrick tries to focus on his work as best as he can.

When it’s five thirty nearly everyone has begged off, all still with work left unfinished but resolving to do it tomorrow. Besides Patrick there are only a few people left, a couple of interns and, of course, Brian. It's not uncommon that they’re some of the last people left, especially on days like today where Brian is excited to get to editing whatever he’s just finished shooting. Patrick glances over when Brian finally stands to gather his stuff, tries not to stare as he puts his jacket and tie back on, fixes himself.

And as if just staring had summoned him, Brian slips his bag over his shoulder and heads toward Patrick’s desk. He averts his gaze, pretends to still be focused on work.

“Hey,” Brian says, leaning his hip on Pat’s desk.

Pat is screaming internally at this point because Brian’s crotch is way too fucking close and his dick is way too framed in those pants. He glances up casually, pretends nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Hey.” Pat says, eyes still on his screen.

“You wanna grab a drink or something? I think I lost my mind in that studio today.”

“Yeah, sure, lemme finish up real quick.” Pat replies, trying not to sound too eager.

Brian smiles sweetly.

“Yeah, cool.”

And then he does this thing with his hips, kind of shifts them back casually, arches his spine like he’s just sore from sitting in a chair, but all Pat can think about is how he moved his body just like that when he was panting and moaning in his bedroom. And so Pat has no control over himself when his eyes drift down to stare at the painfully obvious outline of Brian’s cock. Shit. He had to have done that on purpose, right? Pat’s not that weak. His eyes shoot back up and Brian’s sweet smile has turned into something like a shy smirk.

He was definitely doing it on purpose. Patrick accidentally mumbles a low, husky “god damn it, Brian.”

“Hm?”

He’s feigning ignorance, Pat knows, can feel it. So he stands up, hooks an arm around Brian to rest on his lower back, pulls him along firmly.

“Come here.” He orders.

He flips Brian, facing him toward the front of the office, guides him until Brian understands and walks obediently. Patrick only looks down to stare at the suit stretched across his ass once and  _ fuck.  _ He needs to touch like he needs to breathe. They reach the phone room door and Patrick doesn’t really give a shit if any of their scarce coworkers notice at this point, wrenches it open and pushes Brian inside. When he shuts the door and turns back, Brian is already surging forward to meet him, hands immediately gripping at his shoulders and t-shirt. Patrick’s hands are on him in an instant.

“Fuck, Brian.” He mutters, looking down to take in the man in front of him.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for suits, Pat Gill.” He quips.

“I didn’t. Don’t. It’s just  _ you  _ in a suit.” Patrick confesses, pretty sure it’s true.

Brian doesn’t say anything, just moves his hips impatiently while Pat runs his hands along the tight gray fabric, slips a hand around his waist and the other down to his ass to squeeze. When he inches his hand lower, grips the bottom of an asscheek and presses in firmly, Brian makes this tiny, throaty squeak that has Patrick’s heart swelling in pride for some reason. He slips his hand back down across his thigh, slides it toward the crotch of Brian’s pants to feel the distinct swell of cock there, draws another pitiful noise from Brian’s mouth.

“God, I hate you.” Brian mumbles as he involuntarily bucks his hips.

“You should.” Patrick replies, gripping at Brian’s now-prominent bulge.

Brian whimpers, flexes his hands tangled in Patrick’s shirt.

“Please.” He begs vaguely.

Patrick smiles. If Brian isn’t going to ask for anything specific then he won't get anything specific, if he offers himself up then that’s just what he’s doing, giving in.

“Thought maybe you forgot about that other night in my room.” Patrick tells him.

Brian squirms, loves and hates it when Pat talks to him in that tone.

“Forgot how hungry you were for my cock.”

A wince.

“Forgot how my cum felt in your throat.”

Patrick rubs at Brian’s cock, determined, needs to make him moan. Brian bites his lip and exhales harshly.

“Forgot how you begged me to fuck you while I jerked you off.”

He leans in with that one, noses gently against Brian’s cheekbone. Brian jerks his hips uselessly, Pat’s hand ebbing and flowing with his movements.

“Forgot how loud you were when I pinned you down-”

Finally Brian can't take it any longer, moans sweetly and softly and pushes in close, pressing Patrick’s hand back against his thigh so he can rut against it. Pat hums in reply, satisfied at the deep flush across Brian’s cheeks and ears. There were just too many things he wanted to do to him. He resolves to slip his hand away from Brian’s crotch, to grip the hair around the perfect whirl of Brian’s hair and pull his head back firmly, nosing at his jawline. He presses Brian’s body even closer, insistent.

“I want you to cum like this, Brian. Want you to grind on me until you cum in your pants,” He growls.

With that, Brian’s hips move a little faster, a little more firmly, rubbing the thick fabric against Patrick wantonly.

“And then I’m going to take you back to my place,”

Brian makes a small noise that Pat almost doesn’t catch, even in close proximity.

“And I’m going to fuck the hell out of you. ”

Brian moans, opens his mouth like he wants to kiss Pat and Pat humors him out of pity, licks his lower lip and loosens the tug on his hair just enough for a brief, messy kiss. Brian’s mouth is wet and warm and pleading and Pat can't help but pull his hair back again and spit into his mouth. He can tell Brian is surprised, but the surprise is instantly overcome by an open-mouthed moan and darkened eyes, the precise and charming look of Brian submitting to him and loving it.

“Good boy.” Pat tells him.

Brian only responds with stuttering thrusts against his thigh, exhales just that much harder, and jesus fucking christ Patrick could watch his desperation forever. He moves the hand not in Brian’s hair to slide down between the cleft of his ass, presses his ring and middle finger in until he’s rubbing the thick seam of the pants against his asshole. Pat can feel Brian twitch underneath him, can feel his hole tense under his fingers, and despite the wave of heat that it fills him with he lets out a small laugh. Brian whimpers.

“D-… don’t laugh at me,” He croaks out.

Patrick laughs a little more. Brian was way too cute.

“Fffucking.. asshole.”

Patrick yanks on Brian’s hair, noses at his ear and presses more firmly against his asshole, can feel the pucker of fabric under his fingers. He simultaneously brings his thigh forward a fraction of an inch, encourages an especially hard roll of Brian’s hips. Brian chokes out a groan.

“What was that?” Patrick goads.

He pulls his hand in and up against Brian’s ass again, shoves his hips against him forcefully and then relents. Brian’s knuckles turn white with how hard he is clinging to Patrick’s shirt.

“Did you want to say something, Bri?” Patrick teases.

He keeps the hand on Brian’s ass pressing in at a steady rhythm, revels in the high whimpers Brian lets out.

“A… ah.. hh.” Brian attempts and fails miserably to quip back.

Patrick hums, satisfied at Brian’s undoing. His eyes were glassy, hair mussed from being held tightly, mouth incapable of anything but an obscene gape, cock straining hard at his suit pants. Pat takes the opportunity to pull Brian’s head to the side, lets himself look down at where his cock is rutting up against his leg, takes a moment to enjoy the nearly involuntary movements the younger man is making. Sure, maybe he was on an ego trip, but he was having too much fun to care.

Brian’s hips buck a little more minutely, a little quicker, and Patrick can tell he’s getting closer, chasing his orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it.” Patrick mumbles, eyes still locked on where their bodies meet.

Brian whines and Pat can hear the frustration in his voice.

“Gonna cum just from this?” Patrick asks.

He lifts his eyes and shift’s Brian’s head so they can make eye contact. Brian lets out an elongated moan as Patrick takes the hand from his hair in favor of gripping his jaw, tucking a thumb between his lips to press deep against his tongue. The way Brian could barely maintain eye contact through fluttering eyelids was telling and, obviously, went straight to Pat’s head. He wishes he could keep Brian like this forever. But then, making him cum was going to be way too sweet.

The way Brian is pathetically twitching his jaw combined with the sudden slowing of his hips told Patrick that he was getting even closer, and Pat just couldn’t resist flipping them, pressing Brian against the wall with one hand still on his jaw and the other on his hip.

“Come on, Bri, make yourself cum just like this for me.” Patrick demands.

Brian can only make unintelligible noises, whine every time he pushes his cock back up against Pat’s thigh. Pat’s hand slips down from his mouth to rest at the base of Brian’s throat, holds firmly without squeezing, and that seems to be what sets Brian over the edge. His hips falter through his thrusts and instead of his fingers squeezing any tighter they splay out against Patrick’s chest, tensing in an opposite direction. Pat leans in, presses his forearm up against Brian’s chest and hovers his mouth close, and takes just enough pity on him to shift his leg against Brian’s cock.

“Cum for me, baby.”

And god does he. His hips press forward one last time before he lets out a strained whimper. Patrick can feel his cock pulsating against his thigh, just has to look down to see Brian’s hips frantically stutter against him and his chest strain against his suit as his back arches. He can’t even see his cock and it’s  _ still _ a spectacle, the tight suit fabric accentuating every lustful tremble of his body. Patrick slides his hand up to caress Brian’s cheek, watches closely as he brings his lips between his teeth, eyes rolled back into his head.

“Fuck, Brian.”

Pat watches Brian ride out the end of his orgasm, is lost in the way his body feels under him, lost in the way Brian is lost. His heart does this horrible, tight flip that he chooses to ignore for now. He snaps out of it when Brian’s hands resume their grip on his shirt, only this time it seems to be less because he wants to cum and more to get his attention.

“God.” Brian breathes out.

Patrick smirks.

“You can call me God if you want, I guess.”

Brian rolls his eyes hard. Did the man have no restrain when it came to dad jokes? Pat looks down then, at where their bodies are still pressed close, and initially realizes how hard his own cock is straining at his pants, but then nearly keels over when he sees the wet spot of cum seeping through Brian’s suit fabric. If he didn’t get his dick in Brian soon he was going to lose his mind. Brian has obviously noticed because he slides a hand down Pat’s chest, smooths it down and over the remaining bulge between them.

“You better be ordering us a Lyft because I have an obvious cum stain. Plus, thinking about it on the way to your place is definitely going to give me a boner, and I am  _ not  _ going to be that guy on the subway. Also, you better pay to have these dry-cleaned.”

Patrick smiles deviously.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @stopheathen on twitter! only following other rpf and adjacent accounts.


End file.
